Self Defence
by Mo9Ja
Summary: Regina takes self defence classes at Robin's practice. AU. Trigger warning for assault in the first chapters. Rating might change.
1. Chapter 1

**Self Defence**

 ** _A/N: Hey there! This is my first Once Upon a Time fic. I have written for Gilmore Girls before, but after reading hundreds of OQ fics, and having many ideas lie around, it was about time I wrote one myself._**

 ** _I would like to thank my friend Lea, who has encouraged me over and over again to finally write for this ship. This story originally came from her, so thanks for letting me write it, dear._**

 ** _Thanks also to my friend Niamh. She has beta'd for me for my Gilmore Girls fictions and decided to beta this as well, even though she doesn't watch the series. It is very much appreciated. You're a doll!_**

 ** _I have most chapters planned, and it will be a multific. I already started chapter two, but I've got exam week coming up, so it might be a while._**

 ** _I'll leave you to the story then. I hope you enjoy it._**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Regina**

"Henry, are you sure you're okay staying with Rose today?" Regina calls from her bedroom into the living room, where Henry is laid out on the ground watching television, his face propped up on his hands, as she fluffs her hair some more in front of the wall length mirror.

He lets out a deep sigh. "Yes, mom," he replies. "I'm ten, you know. I'm not a little kid anymore," he adds smartly, and Regina lets out a sigh of her own as she is once again reminded about how fast her little boy is growing up, and that he seems to have inherited her own smart mouth.

"We'll be fine, Regina!" Rose adds as Regina puts in her other earring and takes one last look in the mirror, satisfied with the result. "You go have some fun with Emma! God knows you need it," she finishes under her breath.

"I heard that," Regina calls back, emerging from her bedroom, silently asking Rose for her approval.

"Good," Rose calls over her shoulder, with a smirk, but when she sees Regina, she turns around fully and her tone changes to something less teasing, "Wow, Regina. You look absolutely beautiful." She is wearing a red dress with a triangle at the top that shows a bit of cleavage, but not too much; it has small sleeves covering her shoulders, and the skirt flows freely from her waist down to her knees. The whole ensemble is finished off with six inch black pumps. Her makeup has been carefully applied, her mascara making her long lashes look even longer, and her full lips coloured bright red—the same colour as her dress.

"I know," Regina replies with a roll of her eyes, causing Rose to chuckle, "But is it too much?"

Henry tears his attention away from the telly long enough to give her a once over. "I think you look great, mom," he tells her before returning to his program.

"It's not too much," Rose tells her, as someone knocks on the door, "It's just enough."

Regina nods and quickly heads to the hallway, letting Emma in.

"Are you ready to party?" Emma asks.

"Ready for some shots," Regina mumbles under her breath, causing Emma to let out a laugh.

"Hey Emma!" Henry shouts from the ground, finally getting up to hug his favourite aunt.

"Hey kid." She gives him a hug back. "You'll watch over Rose, right?"

Henry gives a firm nod. "And you'll watch my mom."

Emma smirks and takes his outstretched hand. "Deal."

"Alright, you two," Regina breaks them up, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Now," she turns her attention on Henry and places her hands on his shoulders, "You be a good boy, and I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

"Yes, mom," he sighs, "Now go!"

She smiles at him and presses a kiss to his cheek. A stripe of red is left behind, which she cleans of with her thumb, before grabbing her leather jacket and leaving her two-bed apartment with Emma.

* * *

"So, now that we're finally having a night out without the kid, it's time you let loose for once," Emma determines, placing a shot of tequila and a mojito on the table where Regina is seated.

She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow at Emma, but doesn't say anything. Instead, she lifts the shot glass to clink it with Emma's before downing it.

"Ah, that's good," Emma breathes, sucking on a lemon slice. She grabs Regina's arm and drags her up. "Now, let's dance!"

"Just for a little while," Regina replies, picking up her mojito and following Emma to the dance floor.

She's actually enjoying herself, even without a big amount of alcohol in her system. She forgot how much she loves to dance. It only takes a few songs, however, before some guy is dancing behind Emma. She looks behind her, and must like what she sees, for she turns around and starts dancing and chatting with him. Suddenly Regina feels rather stupid, dancing by herself. Heading back to her table, her half full mojito still in her hand, she is stopped by a man. He holds her hand out to Regina to dance, and she remembers Emma's words from before— _Just let loose for once_ —and decides to take up on them. What the hell right?

The guy looks several years older than she is, but it's just a dance, nothing else. He's a good dancer, she notices, but soon he's moving too close for her liking, his hands moving from the small of her back down to her buttocks, and she pushes slightly at his chest, silently asking to stop the descent of his hands. He does, but instead moves his mouth to her ear, and she feels uncomfortable as his breath blows over her ear and neck.

"I'm Sydney," he tells her and she gives her name with a tight smile. "Regina," he repeats her name breathlessly, and she feels even more uncomfortable. She looks over his shoulder at Emma, but she's too busy with a very attracted man, she must admit. Unfortunately, that means no rescue party for her, so she tells this Sydney she needs another drink and he takes it has his cue to follow.

As she walks to the bar, she can feel his eyes on her backside. She rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh. She feels ridiculous, for going in the first place, and for wearing a dress that stands out too much. This is not her scene anymore. Not since Henry was born, perhaps not ever. She wishes she were at home on the couch, in her comfy pyjamas, with a glass of wine, and her son right next to her, watching one of the Harry Potter films for the umpteenth time, because Henry loves them so much.

It's just one night. She can survive one night.

Reaching the bar, she asks for another tequila shot and from the corner of her eyes, she sees Sydney hold up two fingers. She sits down at one of the stools, and he takes the one next to her. She wishes this guy could just take a hint. All she wanted was some dancing, not some puppy following her around.

Two shots are placed in front of them and Sydney lifts his' and she clinks it begrudgingly. "To her majesty", he tells her.

She quickly downs the drink, coughs a little, before she raises her eyebrow, as she asks him, "Excuse me?"

"'Regina', it means 'queen'. Didn't you know?"

"I did," she replies, "I'm just surprised you knew."

Sydney simply shrugs his shoulders. "It suits you," he tells her.

She lets out a laugh. "It doesn't always feel that way," she tells him darkly, thinking of her life as a single mum. It's almost like having two full time jobs. Working at the publishing house and raising Henry by herself, barely leaves any time for just her. Ironically though, now she'd much rather be working on one of her two jobs than spending alone time in a club she doesn't want to be in.

"What? A beautiful woman like yourself?" he flirts, giving her a one sided smirk, that doesn't become him.

"Thanks," she mumbles, with another tight smile, asking the bartender for another. If she's going to get through this night, she's going to need a whole lot more than two shots. Though, she tells herself, not to drink too much, or she might actually find herself interested in this man due to the alcohol intoxication, and she can't have that.

"The fairest of them all," he continues, as if she's actually showing him interest. She keeps her focus on the bartender, refusing to look at Sydney, as she lets out a tired sigh, before downing her third shot. She asks for another mojito, which the bartender quickly supplies for her, giving her a sympathetic smile.

She grabs the glass tightly, her knuckles turning white, as she tries to stay polite. "Look-" she says, turning to Sydney.

"Trust me, I'm looking," he interrupts her with a smug grin as his eyes roam over her body once more, and she feels a pang of disgust towards this stranger.

She takes a deep breath and starts over. "I just wanted to thank you for the dance, but I'm heading back to my table now, if you don't mind."

"I can join you," he offers.

"No, that's okay," she tells him, "I'm here with my friends. I should probably spend some time with them." With that she heads back to the dance-floor, looking for Emma. It doesn't take her long to find her.

"Regina!" Emma shouts happily, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer to her mystery guy, "This is August."

She smiles politely at August and offers her hand. "Regina," she yells over the music.

"Where's that guy you were dancing with?" Emma shouts in her ear, causing Regina to move away from her before she goes permanently deaf. "He looked nice," she continues.

Regina scoffs. "Yeah, right," she shouts back. "Trust me, he was only interested in one thing. Couldn't keep his eyes on my face."

"Can you blame him," Emma jokes, earning an eye-roll from Regina.

"Not my type, all right," Regina ends the conversation. "I'm gonna find a table. Sit down for a while. I didn't exactly wear my dancing shoes."

Emma pouts, as she looks down at Regina's heels, but nods her head anyway.

"Nice to meet you," she shouts at August, who smiles and nods back at her, before taking Emma back in his arms. She turns around with a roll of her eyes and heads for an empty table, hoping to be left alone by Sydney.

As she's sitting down with her drink, looking around her, she wishes she had brought a manuscript to read. Instead, she pulls out her phone and texts Rose.

 _Is the apartment still standing?_

She gets her answer almost immediately. _Everything is fine, Regina. Henry and I are just playing a game. Now put your phone away and have some fun! Nothing to worry about here._

 _What game?_ she texts back, wishing she was there instead, knowing she would be having a lot more fun playing a game with Henry, than spending her time alone drinking, where the music is too loud and her friend abandoned her for a hot guy—not that she blames Emma.

 _Sigh... Mario Kart. How is the club?_

 _A disaster. Emma is dancing with some guy. I'm at a table by myself._

 _Go find some guy to dance with yourself. Take Emma's example._

 _And have another perv to shake? No thanks._

 _More luck next guy?_ Rose replies, quickly followed by, _But I gotta go. Henry wants to continue beating me._

 _Don't let him stay up too late!_ she mothers her friend, before closing her text messages and opening an ebook on her iPhone.

She has actually been able to finish a few chapters without being interrupted too much, before Emma joins her at her table. She realises it's just passed midnight. Emma looks over Regina's shoulder at her phone, exclaiming, "Seriously? You're reading a book?"

Regina just shrugs her shoulders, but places her phone back in her bag.

"Regina…" Emma starts, "If you want, I can ditch August and it will be just you and me tonight."

"I don't want you to do that," Regina replies quickly, feeling too old to have to be entertained by her friend, who deserves to have her fun as well. "I'm fine. I think I'm heading home soon and you can spend more time with August."

"I don't have to, you know," she offers again, "I'll get his phone number and we'll meet up som-"

"Emma, really, it's no big deal," Regina interrupts her, "I shouldn't have come in the first place. This isn't the kind of place for me."

Emma sighs deeply. "I feel kind of responsible. You were having fun when we were dancing, right?"

"I was," Regina admits.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just left you on the dance-floor."

"I'm a big girl, Emma. And I want you to have fun as well." Emma smiles gratefully at her, before Regina adds, with a mischievous grin, "Just make sure you're being safe."

"Yes, mother," Emma replies with a chuckle and a roll of her eyes.

To Regina's surprise, Emma gives her a hug goodbye—she is not the hugging type—and whispers another apology in Regina's ear. "Well, at least they had good mojitos here," she chuckles, trying to make light of the situation and causing Emma to laugh too before they part ways.

* * *

The club is close to her home, so she decides to walk, rather than call a taxi. After all, it's only about five minutes. It does require for her to go into an alleyway after passing the busy town-square, but she has walked that path a hundred times over.

She has barely left the club and is still putting her arms in her jacket when she hears a voice from behind her.

"Hey!" Sydney calls, jogging a bit to catch up to her, "Leaving already?"

"I have to get up early tomorrow," she lies, increasing her steps, just wanting to go home already.

"Shame," he tells her, "I wouldn't have minded another dance." He looks at her devilishly as he roams his eyes over her curves.

"Yeah, well. Maybe some other girl," she grumbles at him, not at all in the mood.

"Where are you going?" he asks her needlessly.

"Home. To sleep," she replies through gritted teeth.

"And you're walking?"

"I live close by," she's getting more uncomfortable by the minute, looking around her, but no one is paying attention to her. She feels vulnerable alone on the street with a stranger who won't leave her alone.

"I'll walk you home," he offers her, presumably politely.

She's nearly in the alley, so she stops in her tracks to face him. "I'd rather you didn't," she snaps at him, before continuing her way home, hoping he won't follow her.

"I didn't pay for those drinks for nothing," he tells her angrily.

"Fine. I'll pay you back," she snipes back at him, reaching for her bag, "How much was it?"

Before she has the time to reach inside her bag, he pulls her the final few steps into the dark alleyway and throwing her violently against the brick wall. She lets out a surprised yelp, followed by a loud gasp as her head bangs the wall hard. "I don't want your money," he snares back at her, trapping her between the wall and his own body, and holding both of her arms nailed against the wall as well, as he moves forward and crushes her mouth painfully with his own, thrusting his tongue inside.

Regina doesn't know what's happening. Everything seems to go so fast. One moment she's walking and the next she's thrown against the wall, being violated, with no way to defend herself. But she's not going down without a fight.

As she feels his tongue press against her teeth, she opens her mouth, just to bite him, hard. She can taste the blood in her mouth as he pulls back and looks even angrier. Sure enough, he slaps her hard across her cheek. She looks to her right, back at the square, but she doesn't see anyone from where they're standing. She decides to scream loudly for help, but knows people probably won't hear her over the loud music. Sydney places his hand over her mouth, as his other one moves to squeeze her arse. She mumbles behind his hand, tries to get free. She pushes at him with her now free hands; she hits him; she tries scratching him, his face, his arms, his chest, anything she can reach—but even though she's given him some good blows, it's not doing her any good. He just laughs at her and she can smell the alcohol on his breath.

He removes his hand from her mouth, and she starts yelling immediately—shouts for help, desperate pleas for him to get away from her, to please don't do this. She tries kneeing him, but he sets his foot on her own, his whole weight crushing her toes, and she cries out in pain, tears escaping her eyes.

He moves his hands to her small cleavage, still pressing his body against her to keep her in place as she hits, and shouts, and squirms to get away, to no use. She can feel his arousal against her hip, and feels absolutely disgusted.

In one quick motion, he tears the front of her dress all the way to her navel, revealing her red lace bra to him. He licks his lips in anticipation and she cries for help even more. She feels the front clasp of her bra open, and she curses herself for wearing one of her sexy bras, with easy access. She tries to stop him, tries to cover her half naked breasts, but he grabs both arms and presses them against the wall again, with a strength she didn't expect just looking at him. She feels the scrape of the wall against the back of her arms, feels the skin getting torn, but that's the least of her problems right now. As he bends over her, she squeezes her eyes shut and tries to shout for help one more time. She can feel his disgusting hot breath graze her cheek, down her neck, her shoulders, and then down between the valley of her breasts.

She swallows deeply, her eyes still shut tight, still squirming against the wall, as she waits disgustingly for his lips on her upper female parts, but it never happens.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Thanks so much for reading. Reviews are very much appreciated._**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am so sorry for the late update. I've had some busy weeks. Exam weeks, FT3 and Paris, more exam weeks, choosing and scheduling classes for next year at university, and holiday in Sweden, followed by some long workdays because the fair was in town. Those are my excuses.**

 **But mostly, the past few days, I've been struggling with this story so much. I have plenty of plans and I really want to get to 'the fun part'. I just didn't realise how difficult this part would be, lol. Without further ado, I really hope you like it.**

 **An extra warning for assault. Read at own risk.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** ** _Once Upon a Time,_** **or its wonderful character. I did however use some lines from the show, but I take no credit for those.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Robin**

He knows he shouldn't be here tonight, but he needed to blow of steam, and this is where he comes to blow off steam. What better place is there than his practice, where he can punch and kick inanimate objects to feel better?

He was invited to David's house to play some cards and have some drinks with the regular crew, but he was not in the mood. His friends know him too well for him to be able to hide behind a mask of indifference. They would notice something is up and they would no doubt ask questions. Besides, he really doesn't feel like seeing David and his new wife Mary Margaret nauseatingly couple-y today, _especially_ not today. Instead, he decided to waste away his night by himself, working out, so he could have some time to think.

It's nearly midnight when he finally decides he has had enough. He is out of breath, his shirt is soaked with his own sweat and his knuckles are starting to hurt, even through his boxer gloves. Swiftly taking them off, he notices the redness of his hands. He really let himself go today. Taking a deep breath, he heads for the shower, deciding it's time to go back to his apartment.

After a quick shower, he gathers his belongings, ready to leave, but he stands still for a while, thinking. He should take his car, he knows he should; the one that he used to rush his way to Sherwood Gym. It's a long walk home, yet he decides against it. Apparently his late night workout wasn't enough to get his thoughts in order, as he feels drawn to the chilly night air. So, instead of taking the back entrance to where he parked his blue beaten up truck, he leaves through the front and walks across the town square, when he hears it.

At first he isn't sure if it is anything. There is a lot of noise coming from his left, from the well-running club owned by his good friend Killian. There is loud music, happy laughter, and cheerful screams.

But, the scream he thought he heard didn't sound very cheerful. In fact, it gave him the chills. And this particular scream seemed to come from his right.

Without further thought, he decides to check it out. Better safe than sorry. After all, he does teach a defence class two days a week.

He walks back towards the buildings, walking close by to check the few dark alleyways, when in one he sees the silhouettes of two people having an intimate moment, and he feels stupid for thinking it was a cry for help. The woman was probably enjoying herself immensely for letting out such a loud sound.

Shaking his head, he starts walking again, leaving the couple to their privacy when he hears a whimper, one that sounds way too panicky to his liking. Should he check it out?

Even if he is wrong in his assumptions, the couple should have just refrained long enough to get to a bed. Getting caught would be their own fault. Making a decision, he steadily strides closer to the couple.

As his sight adjusts to the darkness, and he gets closer and closer, he sees the woman's struggle to get away. He can see her legs trapped between the wall and the man's own legs, her arms pinned to her sides; he can see her squirming against the wall, but the man is holding her fragile frame in a death grip.

He can see her terrified face; her eyes shut tight, the tears running down her cheeks. He notices her messed up hair and ripped clothes. She lets out another desperate shout for help and it only takes him a second to turn his stride into a sprint; another second to run hard into the fucking arsehole and knock him to the ground, straddling him and getting in a few good punches to the bastard's face, his anger taking complete control of him, before he hears another whimper from his left. He notices from the corner of his eyes the woman sliding to the floor.

He lifts the whimpering pathetic excuse of a man by his collar and lets him fall back down on the asphalt hard before his concern for her overrides his anger. He gets up and walks to the woman, squatting down beside her, but not daring to touch her.

Her face is buried in her hands, her hair a curtain around it, completely hiding herself from him. He notices the blood on the back of her hands, elbows, and shoulders from scraping it against the wall; the red finger-shaped marks on her wrists and upper arm where he must have grabbed her; and the nail scratches on her left thigh.

The moment Robin lets go of the scumbag on the ground, he scrambles to his feet and leaps out of sight, half stumbling on his legs and supporting himself on the walls on both sides of the alley.

"Are you alright?" he asks the woman concerned, even though he knows she isn't. She can't be—not after what she just went through, not with the knowledge of what would have happened if it weren't for him. He only wishes he could have come to her rescue sooner.

He isn't surprised when she doesn't reply, so he tries again. "That man is gone. You're safe now," he tries to comfort her.

With a scoff, she lets her hands drop to her knees as she looks up at the place where Robin had just knocked him to the ground, staring at it for a few seconds before she looks at him. He sees her eyes narrow and notices the anger behind her wet brown orbs as she snaps at him, "That wasn't a man."

Her cheekbone and eye on the right side of her face are a bit swollen and her makeup is completely ruined, yet he notices how beautiful she is, just to feel really bad a second later for noticing such an irrelevant thing as her beauty during events like this.

"You're right. I'm sorry," he apologises, "That scumbag is gone."

She gives him a nod and wipes her tears from her face. She sniffs and clears her throat. "Thank you," she whispers, as she turns her face from him in shame.

"No need. Anyone would have done the same as I did."

She scoffs and murmurs, "I doubt that," and he can't help but wonder if it was 'just' that monster that attacked her that made her loose faith in humanity, or if it was something else. He lets it go for now.

"Can you get up, milady?" he asks, holding his left hand out to her in invitation; the hand that isn't covered in his own blood around his knuckles.

She looks doubtfully at his hand, and then at his face, a glimpse of uncertainty and fear crossing her eyes, before she masks her emotions and nods, sliding her small hand into his larger one and he pulls them both to their feet.

It is then that she looks down at what used to be her dress and remembers her bra is visible. She quickly crosses her arms over her chest, trying to use her small jacket to hide as much skin as possible, but it doesn't seem long enough to cover the tear all the way to her navel, and it doesn't have buttons or a zipper to close it.

Robin quickly shrugs out of his own jacket and drapes it around her shoulders. She turns her back to him as she puts her arms through the sleeves and zips it up, the thin jacket covering her mid-thigh all the way to her neck, and he can hear her sigh of relief.

"You know, it's really not safe for a young woman like yourself to walk around this neighbourhood all alone at this time of night," he informs her.

She gives him an incredulous look and answers sarcastically, "Yeah, I think I just noticed, thanks."

"I-uh," he scratches the top of his head and bites his lower lip questionably, "I own a gym. It's right there, at the square," he points towards the lights coming from the end of the alley, "It's warm, and safe. You can clean your wounds and have something to drink while we call the police."

She shakes her head. "I just wanna go home. I live close by," she points in the opposite direction.

"Alright, I'll walk you."

"You really don't have to do that. I doubt that guy is coming back. You've done enough. Really."

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until you're safe behind the locked doors of your own home. Chivalry and all that," he continues stubbornly.

"Chivalry," she repeats almost soundlessly.

"The police will need both our statements."

"Right…" she repeats, still doubtfully.

"Besides, you _are_ wearing my jacket, and I'm gonna need that back. It's a very important jacket," he jokes and she chuckles.

"Alright then," she finally agrees with a sigh, and he thinks she just rolled her eyes at him, but he could have just imagined it in the dark. "Who am I to keep you from being chivalrous, right?" she asks as he bends down to pick up her bag, and they start walking.

He turns to her, and gives her an amused grin, glad that he was able to make this situation a bit lighter with his stupid jokes.

* * *

When they arrive at her home, she reaches for her bag, and he hands it to her. She takes out the key to let them into the apartment building and they go two floors up. (He insists on taking the lift, even when she argues she's perfectly capable of taking the stairs. "And it's 'elevator'," she finally mumbles her begrudging agreement as she steps into the lift. He just chuckles at her).

She takes a moment when she stands in front of her apartment door, letting out a sigh as she stares at her bruised and bloodied hands, mentally preparing herself for the questions of whomever is behind that door—a boyfriend maybe? A roommate? There's no ring on her finger, so he doubts he'll find a husband in there. Inhaling deeply, she turns the key in the lock and steps inside, letting herself in.

Robin waits patiently at the door, not wanting to intrude the privacy of her home, until she invites him in; yet, he also feels loathe to let her go until he has seen to her wounds and until he knows for sure she's safe, with someone there to take care of her.

"Is-uh, is someone home, to take care of you?" he asks awkwardly, still lingering at her doorstep.

She turns around to look at him and nods. He can see the radars turning in her head and he waits patiently until she makes a decision.

"You can come inside, if you want," she tells him. She takes another deep sigh. "You're right. We should… We should call police. Make sure it doesn't happen again to someone less fortunate than to have you roaming the streets. We're in this together now, right?"

"I guess so," he answers her with a sad smile, and she looks away with a scowl on her face. Not one for pity, it seems. He clears his throat. "But before you let me in, you should know my name," he extends his hand towards her and she takes it. He is careful not to wrap his fingers around her wounded knuckles, "Robin Locksley, at your service."

She snorts amusedly. "Your parents certainly have a weird sense of humor," she informs him, and he just grins, having heard the Robin Hood jokes many times in his life.

"Well, at least I'm living up to my name."

"You're a regular Robin Hood," she looks down and realises they're still holding hands. "Regina Mills," she finally informs him and they let go of each other.

"Regina? I thought I heard voi…ces," a small young blonde woman with a bun high on her head trails off as she shows up at the end of the hallway, just as Robin steps into the apartment and closes the front door. "Oh, hello!" she looks at him with a wide grin on her face, one that quickly fades and turns in a look of horror when Regina turns around and faces her friend. "Oh my god, what happened?" she screeches as she rushes over to Regina to place her arm around her shoulders and usher her into the living room.

Regina shakes her head. "I just want to get out of these clothes right now."

The woman nods understandably, "Yes, yes, of course. Put on something comfortable. I'll make you some tea." She shoots Robin a wide-eyed look that shows she's terrified to hear what exactly happened to her friend. Not strange when he brings her home with a swollen face in a coat that nearly covers her entire dress.

"Got anything stronger?" Regina replies, and the blonde nods again. Regina walks towards one of the closed doors, which he assumes is her bedroom, but she turns around to face her friend again. "Is Henry asleep?" she asks and he can see her swallow hard, "I don't want him to see me like this."

"Sound asleep," she informs her and Regina disappears behind the closed door.

The woman whirls around to face him, her face filled with concern, confusion and anger. "Who are you? And what the hell happened?" she asks in a harsh whisper.

He extends his hand once again—the hand he used to hit the jackass that attacked Regina; his own bruised and bloodied hand. The blonde stares terrified at his injuries and takes a step away from him. As he realises what it must look like, he quickly drops his hand. "Robin Locksley," he answers her first question. "You must be Regina's roommate?"

"Babysitter," she mumbles, narrowing her eyes at him and expecting an answer to his second question. So, Henry in question must be Regina's son.

"She was attacked," he says hoarsely. He clears his throat, trying to work around the lump in his throat as he explains shortly, "I-uh, I punched the guy," he holds up his bruised hand again, "and brought her home."

"Oh God," the lady says horrified, placing her hand in front of her mouth. "Oh God, she even texted me about some pervert showing interest in her. I should… I shouldn't have… This is my fault." she trails off, tears appearing in her eyes.

"It's not your fault, milady. You couldn't have known."

"Rose. I'm… My name is Rose," she sniffles.

"It's nice to meet you, Rose. I wish it was under different circumstances," he tells her, as he places a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Me too," she says quietly.

"Can I borrow your phone? I left mine at home, and I have to call the police."

"The police? It's the middle of the night. Shouldn't she just go by the station tomorrow?" Rose asks.

"Hm, I don't think so. I think they will want to roam the streets a bit with the chance that he is still walking around," he explains.

"Oh, okay," Rose agrees, as she walks towards the table in the living room and hands him her phone, and disappears into the kitchen shortly after, no doubt to fetch that 'something stronger' that Regina asked for.

* * *

He tries the regular police number first; the one for non-emergencies, but of course, it's after hours, so he dials 9-1-1 and gives them a shortened version of what he'd seen and what had happened next. They ask him what the guy looks like and he gives as close a description as possible. He also adds that the guy is limping and his face looks like a punching bag, so it won't be hard to know if they have the right guy when they see him. The police tell him they will send their patrols on duty searching around the mentioned area, while they send two other officers to Regina's home for both their statements. He asks Rose for the address and gives it to them.

So that's where they find themselves now, the three of them in the living room, Rose and Regina on the couch and Robin in a comfy chair, a cup of tea in Robin's and Rose's hands, and an untouched glass of apple cider on the table in front of Regina; waiting for the arrival of the police.

Regina had come out of her room, her hair damp, her smeared makeup gone, black-rimmed glasses on her nose, wearing grey sweatpants and an oversized dark blue 'University of Southern Maine' hoodie, breaking the awkward silence that had been lingering between him and Rose after he had told her what the police said and small-talk seemed too inappropriate in their current situation.

He stands up when she enters the room—a remaining gentlemanly habit pounded into him by his upper-class father.

"Regina!" Rose immediately chirps nervously when she sees her, "I got you some cider and the first aid kit to clean your wounds."

"Thanks, Rose, but they're just scrapes. I'm fine," Regina says, though she doesn't sound too gratefully. "You can sit back down now," she tells Robin, and he thinks she sounds annoyed, but he does what she says.

"You should have them treated," he tells her, "and put some ice on your cheek."

"I agree with Robin, Regina. Sit down and let me look at your wounds," Rose says as she takes out clean gauze and dips it in a cup of diluted rubbing alcohol.

"You're going to treat my wounds?" Regina asks Rose incredulously, ignoring her command. "Sorry dear, but I don't think you'd be very helpful when you're unconscious on the floor."

Rose looks sheepishly at Robin. "It's true," she admits as she holds a wetted gauze out to him, "I can't see a drop of blood before I go squeamish," earning a chuckle from Robin as he stands up again to take the gauze. "I'll go get some ice for your face, while Robin takes care of… the blood," she tells Regina with a shudder, and heads into the kitchen.

"I can do it myself," she tells him, but he ignores her.

"Hold still please, milady," Robin informs as he takes her hand in his so he can remove the dirt from the wounds on her knuckles.

"Why?" she asks defiantly.

"Because this may sting a little," he tells her as he carefully dabs the gauze on her knuckles. She lets out an annoyed sigh and squeezes her lips together in a thin line, not showing him any sign of weakness.

"Now, sit down before you pass out."

She gives him an incredulous look and scoffs at him. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch."

He won't let it go though. He gives her a pointed look and then looks pointedly at the couch, raising his eyebrows, waiting for her to do as he says. With a roll of her eyes, she sits down and he sits next to her, carefully rolling up the sleeves of her hoodie and treating her elbows.

"Looks like your shower cleaned most of it. All that's left is bandaging. Let me see your other arm please."

She lets him treat and bandage her wounds. When he tells her to turn around and lift her sweater so he can take a look at her shoulder blades, she tries to make excuses until Rose—who came back into the room—challenges her to not be such a baby. She gives Rose a murderous look, but complies, not one to turn down a challenge.

The wounds on her shoulder blades and some running down the expanse of her spine are superficial. He gently dabs them clean and quickly lowers her sweater again, understanding her possible discomfort at having a strange man touching her bare back, especially after tonight.

He moves back to the armchair he occupied before, giving her more space, and lifts the steaming cup of tea to his mouth, breathing it in appreciatively. He murmurs a thank you to Rose who placed it there for him.

"I figured an Englishman always appreciates a nice cup of tea," she tells him in her Australian accent, as she hands the towel-wrapped-ice to Regina who places it carefully against her swollen cheek, causing her glasses to be pushed upwards a bit, and leans back into the cushions with a sigh. And they wait.

Until finally, the intercom sounds. Rose quickly gets up and buzzes the policemen into the building. She waits at the open apartment door, undoubtedly to prevent them from ringing the doorbell as well and accidentally waking the young lad—Henry, he reminds himself—sleeping peacefully behind closed doors.

"You ready?" he asks Regina.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out loudly. "I just want to get this over with," she tells him, "And find a way to explain _this_ ," she points at the general direction of her face, "to my son."

He nods as two officers, a man and a woman, walk into the house, followed by Rose, and introduce themselves. They go straight to business, ready with a notepad and pen to hear Regina's side of the story first. He learns that she went to Killian's club with a friend—he wonders if anyone thought to notify said friend about what happened—and met the guy there. She even has his name—Sydney, he learns—and she explains how she tried to shake him off but he followed her and out of nothing attacked her. It gets a bit harder for her to tell, but the officers are patient as she takes her first large swallow from her cider. She tells them how she tried to fight him off, but she couldn't; how he had her completely pinned to the wall, at his mercy; how he had ripped the front of her dress; and finally how Robin had showed up just in time.

No one interrupts her. They just listen and let her talk until she's done. Then the police start asking questions: what did he look like; what was he wearing; anything particular about him, an accent, a mark, a scar, a tattoo, anything—nothing; could they take the dress she wore as evidence ("It's not like I can wear it again," Regina remarks). They finish by asking her if she wants a doctor to take a look at her—she doesn't—before they move over to his statement.

He can see the relief on Regina's face as she folds her legs under herself on the couch and finally relaxes.

He starts from the moment he left Sherwood Gym and ends where he saw Regina and this Sydney guy and realised what was happening, when the other bedroom door opens and a young lad—but older than he expected, he must be around ten years old—walks into the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his fists, and Robin stops talking.

"Henry," Regina gasps as she quickly drops the towel, gets up and walks towards him.

"Mom? What's going on?" he asks looking wide-eyed at the policemen and at Robin, before he looks at his mother. "What happened to you?" he asks looking terrified now and wrapping his arms around his mother's torso, "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Sweetheart," she tells him, holding his face between her hands and pressing a kiss to his head. "Let's go to your room and I'll tell you, okay?" She wraps her arm around her son's shoulder and leads him back to his room, leaving Robin to go back to his story, which he gives freely.

* * *

 **A/N: My regular beta was on holiday, and I did not want to disturb her there, so my friend Lea (Check her out: holyevilqueen) took the liberty to read over it for any errors. Thank you dear! You're a doll.**

 **Also, while struggling with this chapter, I started on another story. I should post chapter 1 soon-ish and chapter 3 from this story shouldn't take too long either.**

 **Thanks so much for reading and if you have the time, please leave a review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews, follows and favourites. It means a lot.**

 **Disclaimer: I own Once Upon a Time in my dreams only, unfortunately…**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Regina**

Regina sits down on the unmade bed next to Henry, her arm still draped over his shoulders, holding him close to her.

"What happened to your face, Mommy?" Henry asks in a small voice, his eyes tearing up as he looks her over and takes her hand in his, "And your hands?"

Looking at him like this, and hearing him call her 'mommy' instead of his currently more grown-up 'mom', makes her think back of when he was just a little boy, crying over a scraped knee and seeking solace with his mommy; it reminds her of how quickly her little boy is growing up, and now he won't give up until he has the answers he wants, she knows. After all, he inherited her stubbornness. She will have to come up with something fast and convincing.

"Why is the police here? Where is Emma? She's okay right, Emma? Nothing happened to her?" he continues his interrogation, getting more upset by the second, and a tear finally escapes his eye.

Regina shushes him, while raking her fingers through his hair. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Emma is okay, I promise. We're both okay."

"What happened," he whispers, his brown puppy-dog eyes pleading with her to tell him.

"Someone tried to rob me," she quickly decides is the story she's going to go with. "When I wouldn't let go of my purse, he got violent," she points at her cheek, "That guy in the living room—Robin, his name is Robin—he saw and he helped me and then walked me home."

"And you called the police?" Henry finishes.

"Yes, we called the police."

"The son of a bitch. I'm ten and even I know you shouldn't hit a woman. What an asshole. I could…" Henry says angrily.

"Henry!" Regina stops him, reprimanding him for his foul words. "We don't use that kind of language in this house, you understand?"

"But…" Henry tries.

"No buts, mister. No matter what, we do not curse. Okay?"

"Sorry," he mumbles unconvincingly. "It just angers me."

"It's okay. I understand," Regina tells him as she wipes her forefinger comfortingly over his cheek. "I'm angry too."

Henry nods slowly; processing everything his mother told him. "Mom?" he asks eventually, breaking the silence that had come over them.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Next time, just let go of your purse, okay? You could have really gotten hurt."

Regina hugs her son to her. "You're absolutely right." She presses a kiss to the top of his head, "I'm sorry."

Henry wraps his arms tightly around her, his head now resting on her chest and her hands moving soothing patterns over his back. "You're too important to me," he tells her, and she can hear in his voice that he's crying while he clings to her. "I know I've been a bad son lately, but…" he takes a deep breath and sniffling. "You're all I have!" he exclaims, holding her impossibly tighter.

"Shh, shh, it's okay," she shushes, rocking them slowly back and forth—the way she did when he was just a baby. "I'm right here, sweetheart. I'm right here." She feels him nod his head against her chest, her own tears prickling in her eyes and one rolling down her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"Okay," Henry whispers, sniffling again as he tries to pull himself together. His arms disappear from around her frame as he looks back up at her and carefully traces his fingers over her cheek. "Does it hurt?"

"Not too bad," she answers, giving him a reassuring smile, as she wipes his tears away with her fingers, "Soon I'll be back to the old me."

Henry nods again, simply watching her face. "I should go in there," he says after a while pointing towards his closed bedroom door, which leads to the living room, where muffled voices are still to be heard, "Thank Robin."

"Oh no, you're not," Regina stops him as he stands up to walk to the door, "You need to go to sleep. It's late."

"But, mom," Henry whines.

"No, honey. I'll thank him for you, alright?"

"Okay," he agrees with a reluctant sigh as he scoots back beneath his warm sheets. Regina wraps him tightly in his comforter, like she used to do when he was just a little boy. "Will you stay with me?" he asks in a small voice, grabbing her hand and pulling her closer to him.

She sits down next to him, her feet stretched out on the bed and her head propped up against the headboard as she repeatedly rakes her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep," she promises him, as Henry finds a comfortable position and settles down.

* * *

The first one to notice her when she reappears in the living room is Robin. She notices the police are gone, and she is actually surprised to see Robin is still there; from the looks of it, working on his second cup of tea.

"Is the lad asleep?" he asks.

"Yes," she sighs, as she plops back down on the couch, wincing when her back hits the couch cushions a bit too hard.

"Good," he replies, and then pauses as he contemplates his next words. "Regina, I just wanted to tell you, the police said they've had more reports with description of the same man the past few months around the same area."

Regina's eyes go wide. "The past _months_ ," she asks incredulously.

"Two to three months, yes," Rose replies, placing her hand comfortingly on Regina's shoulder.

"It looks like he picks his victims at random," Robin continues.

Regina arches a perfect eyebrow at him, and mumbles, "Doesn't feel that random to me."

"I mean th-that you don't have to be afraid he'll come after you again," Robin stumbles to explain, "He doesn't have your address or any other personal information."

"So, he's not a stalker," Regina concludes.

"He probably just thought you were pretty," Rose adds.

Regina scoffs. "Well, lucky me," she says sarcastically, causing conversation to drop silent.

Robin stands up. "I think it's time for me to go too, so you ladies can get some rest just like the lad," he tells her.

Regina nods as she lets out an involuntary yawn. "I think that's a good idea," she says with her hand still in front of her mouth.

He chuckles at her and moves towards the hall. Both Regina and Rose follow him.

Before he reaches the front door, he turns around and hands Regina his card. "I own Sherwood Gym, located in the centre of town. I don't know if you've ever heard of it?"

She shakes her head.

"Well, two days a week I teach a self defence class for an hour. If you're interested," he trails off.

Regina takes the card from him and looks down at it. "That's very kind," she tells him, looking in his bright blue eyes, "but I am a single mother. I don't have the time for classes."

"I understand," he gives her a kind smile, "but I can't help but feel personally responsible for your safety."

"You're not," Regina interjects.

Robin ignores her comment and continues, "So maybe we can set something up after hours."

"I'll think about it, okay?"

"Of course. My number is on the card," he tells her as she places said card on the small side-table in the hall.

She nods and then extends her hand to him again. "Thanks again. If it wasn't for you…" A shudder takes over her body as she thinks about what could have happened.

He takes her hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he brings it to his mouth, and presses a gentle kiss to it. "You're very welcome, milady," he tells her, lets go of her hand, nods to Rose, opens the door, and leaves her home.

Regina closes the door behind him, and leans against it with a big sigh.

"Now then. Take a sleeping pill and off to bed with you," Rose instructs.

"Yes, mother," Regina replies sarcastically, but she gives her friend a grateful smile, and pats her on the shoulder as she passes her on her way to her bedroom and adjoined bathroom, where a nice pill is waiting for her to take her to dreamland.

* * *

She's woken the next morning by the sound of keys in the door, followed by a soft bang when said door closes. With a moan, she pushes herself off of her pillow and looks at the alarm clock on her bedside table. 11.26am, she reads.

Rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out of it, and wincing when she presses a little too hard on the bruise of her right eye, she looks at the time again, but she got it right the first time. She can't remember the last time she slept in this late, if ever. She wonders why Henry hasn't woken her yet.

"Hey kid!" she hears Emma's voice on the other side of the door.

She hears a grumble of, "What are you doing here?" as Henry's reply.

"Well, it's Sunday. You don't think, just because you moved, I'm gonna skip your mother's fluffy apple pancakes, do you?" Emma jokes.

"You don't deserve them," Henry replies with chagrin.

Regina can hear the confusion in Emma's voice as she asks, "What are you talking about, kid?"

"Don't call me 'kid'! I'm not a kid anymore," he says angrily, his voice raising an octave.

Emma's voice changes to a motherly tone, "Henry, what's going on?"

"We made a deal!" Henry yells, sounding quite hysterical now, "You promised me! You said you'd take care of her, and you didn't! You lied to me!"

"Hey, hey, Henry, calm down," she can hear Emma trying to cajole him, "Tell me what happened."

"You said you would watch her! My mom!" Henry continues loudly, "And you lied to me!" With a deep sigh, Regina crawls out of bed, wincing a bit at the stiffness of her muscles, and making her way towards the living room.

"What happened to your mother? Is she okay?" her voice has turned concerned now, with a panicky edge to it.

"Don't touch me!" Henry yells, and Regina is just in time to see him slap Emma's hand from his shoulder.

"Henry, that's enough," Regina says calmly, yet authorial.

Emma spins around so fast; Regina wonders how she didn't catch a dizzy spell from it, or whiplash. She takes in Regina's full appearance. From the sweatpants all the way up to her sleep tousled hair.

"I'm okay," she answers Emma's earlier question before she can say anything.

Emma takes a step closer to her, holding out her hand as if to touch her, but she doesn't. "Your face. Who- who did that?"

"That 'nice' guy," Regina answers sarcastically, repeating the word that Emma had spoken about Sydney the night before— _he looked nice_.

Emma gasps and then swallows visibly. "He didn't…" she trails off wide-eyed, swallowing hard, sending a quick glance to Henry, not wanting to finish that sentence in front of him, "Did he?"

Regina turns around and walks towards the kitchen for their annual Sunday lunch. "No." She looks behind her to see Emma had followed her to the kitchen, the relief rolling off of her at that one simple word. "There was a guy. He… saved me," she explains, hating the use of the word 'saved'. It makes her feel weak. It makes her feel like some damsel in distress, which she is absolutely not. Yet, save her, he did.

"Shit, Regina…" Emma trails off, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have let you go home alone."

"No, you shouldn't have," Henry butts in.

"Henry," Regina reprimands her son again, who just joined them in the kitchen. She turns back to Emma. "It isn't your fault. And I'm fine."

"Still. I took you out. You were my responsibility."

"I am no one's responsibility," Regina snaps at Emma. "I'm a grown woman. I don't need people looking after me."

"I know, but I'm still sorry," Emma says with a pout, "I feel awful."

"Good," Henry tells her from his seat at the kitchen table, his arms crossed over his chest, a nasty pout on his face, and his eyes narrowed at Emma.

Emma turns to him. "I really am sorry, kid."

Henry just huffs and looks away from her.

Emma lets out a deep sigh and looks back at Regina. "Maybe I shouldn't be here today. He's pretty mad at me."

Regina nods. "That may be best for now."

They walk together towards the front door, Emma saying goodbye to an unresponsive Henry, trying in vain to apologise again.

"Don't worry. I'll talk to him," Regina promises Emma at the sight of her dejected expression.

"He's never been this angry with me before," Emma says, "He just ignored me when I said goodbye."

Regina smirks, "Welcome to my world."

Emma lets out a snort. "Thanks," she says sarcastically, staring down at the floor.

"Just give him some time. He'll come around."

Emma nods. "At least he's no longer mad at you. Guess that's something."

"That may be temporary. He's got a lot of rage these days."

"He doesn't like changes," Emma says and Regina hums an affirmative. Emma inspects Regina more closely. "That's a nasty bruise you got there. You sure you're okay? And no trying to put on a fake brave face!"

Regina smiles at that. "Yes, I'm really fine. Just some superficial wounds. Promise."

"Alright then, I suppose I'll leave," Emma answers begrudgingly.

As she opens the door and attempts to leave, she calls Emma back. "Hey." Emma turns around, waiting for her to continue. "Don't beat yourself up for this."

"He's right, though," Emma replies, "I did promise him I'd watch you. I obviously didn't do a very good job."

Regina shrugs her shoulders. "He'll get over it. And so will I."

"I really am sorry this happened to you."

"Me too."

"Good thing you had a knight in shining armour," Emma says, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, yeah," Regina says, with a role of her eyes, and adds sarcastically, "Perfect match for the Evil Queen."

Emma smirks at her mention of her 'secret' nickname at work. "Was he cute?" she keeps probing.

Regina lets out a deep sigh and waves her hand at Emma. "It's really time for you to leave now."

"Come on!" Emma continues, really starting to enjoy her little game now, "At least we know _he_ is nice."

"Uh huh," Regina agrees. "So, what if I told you he's in his fifties, married, and has five teenage kids running around?'

"And in this hypothetical scenario, is this oldie/hubby/daddy cute?" Emma continues.

"Say he is," Regina plays along.

"I'd say, go for it." Regina raises a questionable eyebrow at Emma, to which Emma unconvincingly replies with, "Everything can break?"

Regina can't stop the deep laugh that bubbles out of her, which feels good after the drowsy night she's had. "Alright then," she chuckles, "Challenge accepted", causing Emma to laugh even harder.

"Seriously though," Emma says, "You're not ready to move on? It's been years since Daniel—"

Regina quickly interjects by snapping at her, "I know very well how long it's been, thank you very much."

"I just mean," Emma sighs, taking a deep breath, "Aren't you ready to be happy with another guy?"

"I don't need a man to be happy," Regina answers honestly. "I have Henry. I have my work. I'm happy."

"Fair enough," Emma replies, but isn't just yet finished trying to convince her. "Well, what about sex." At the mention of the word 'sex', Emma drops her voice to a whisper and looks over Regina's shoulder to make sure Henry isn't listening in on them. "Don't you miss it?"

Regina smirks. "I think you get plenty for the both of us." Emma gives her a look that says _can't-argue-that_ and Regina shakes her head amusedly while rolling her eyes. "Besides," she argues, "I don't think I will find a suitable man for me at the kind of club we went to yesterday."

"Hm. I'll think of something, or someone," Emma says decidedly.

"Can't wait," Regina says sarcastically, as Emma once again attempts to leave. "Emma?" she stops her.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," she says quickly.

Emma scrunches her eyebrows confusedly. "What for?"

"For making me laugh today," Regina replies uneasily, tucking her knotted hair self-consciously behind her ear.

Emma gives her a big grin. "Anytime."

They look at each other for a small moment, the air between them loaded with gratitude for their close friendship, until Emma finally breaks it, "This feels like a hug moment."

Regina snorts unladylike. "Not happening."

Emma lets out a chuckle and gives Regina a quick wave before she pulls the door closed behind her.

She walks back into the kitchen to find Henry still sulking at the kitchen table, his head buried in his crossed arms. He looks up when she enters. "Is Emma gone?" he asks.

"For now," Regina replies. She sits down across from him and places her hand on his arm, her softer, motherly voice coming out on automatic pilot, "Henry, you don't need to be angry with her."

He shakes his head. "Sorry mom, but this is between me and Emma. She made _me_ a promise and broke it, so I'm gonna be mad at her."

Regina sighs deeply, raking her hand through her long hair. "Alright. I'm going to get out of my pyjamas, then I'll make us lunch, okay?"

"Okay," he answers, walking towards the living room and plopping down on the couch with the remote in his hand.

* * *

Monday morning turns out to be a difficult one. After a sleepless night—she contemplated taking another sleeping pill, but knew she would not be able to get up early in the morning—her alarm finally chimes. She quickly gets out of bed, feeling her sore muscles protesting even more than the day before.

Her aching muscles don't stop her from taking a run on the treadmill as she does most every morning, while reading a manuscript.

After her usual half hour, she walks into the bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror. When she spots her sweating self, she lets out a small gasp. She looks terrible. The bruise on her cheek is even more set than it was the day before and she has large bags under her eyes. She contemplates staying at home to let that nasty bruise on her cheek fade, but she has a big meeting today. Mr Gold, her boss, wouldn't be too happy with her if she calls in sick.

So, after a satisfying shower, she puts on a brave face, several layers of foundation—still not enough to hide the abbreviation completely—and puts on her favourite black power suit and matching stilettos to compensate for her weak physical appearance. After straightening her long dark hair, she puts it in a high ponytail.

She goes about the rest of her routine: taking her manuscript and the Storybrooke Mirror into the kitchen and placing it on the dinner table, while she starts breakfast.

Looking at the oven-clock, she realises it's already a quarter to eight and she still hasn't heard any sounds of life coming from Henry's room. With a sigh, she turns the stove lower to prevent Henry's pancakes from burning while she makes her way to his bedroom.

"Henry?" she calls as she knocks on his door, "Are you ready? Breakfast is nearly done."

He opens the door, still wearing his Harry Potter pyjamas. "I'm not going to school today," he informs her, as he walks past her towards the kitchen.

"Excuse me?" Regina asks irritably, following her son, "And why is that?"

He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits down at the dinner table, peeling the paper from underneath her half-read manuscript and opening it to the comic section.

Regina places her hand on top of the comic he's about to read. "I asked you a question," she grumbles, her mood becoming even worse with her son's behaviour and her lack of sleep.

Henry lets out a sigh of his own. "They don't allow you in when you're late," he explains, pushing her hand away.

She knows that, of course. "Then stop reading that paper," she informs him, losing her patience as she yanks the offending paper away from him, "quickly get dressed, eat your breakfast, and we will still make it in time." When he doesn't move, she adds an angry, "Now!"

"I'll still be late," is his only answer, as he wraps his arms defiantly over his chest and leans backwards in his chair.

"Henry, I'm not in the mood for this. Just do as I say, or there will be consequences," she says, hoping her threat will help. She walks over to the stove to slide his pancakes on a plate and placing it in front of him.

He doesn't protest and immediately attacks his food and she thinks she has won, but then, after swallowing a large bite, he explains, "I'm not trying to be difficult."

"Good," she answers immediately, sitting down with her yoghurt and digging in, "then just do as I say."

"That's not what I meant."

Regina narrows her eyes at him. "Then what do you mean?"

"I'm walking you to work, so I'll be too late for school," he answers as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and he takes another bite.

Regina coughs, nearly chocking on the bite she had just taken. "Absolutely not!"

"I'm not letting you go alone. Not after this weekend," he answers stubbornly.

She shakes her head. "It's not happening, Henry. You're walking straight to school. Period," she says authorial.

"I don't care if there are consequences. I'm not letting you walk alone," he continues, looking her defiantly in the eyes.

"Henry…" she sighs, but he just shakes his head. "Alright. How about this? We'll take a cab together, okay?" He considers this, and then concedes. She lets out a breath of relief and looks at the clock. "Now quickly get changed while I call a cab," and he finally does as he's told.

* * *

With her head held high and her back straight, she walks into her office building as if nothing happened, snapping at Kristoff, her stumbling assistant—"I don't have all day!" _—_ who is trying to balance his own cup of coffee along with a stack of papers, while handing Regina her cup, and trying not to drop anything.

No one asks her what happened to her face. Maybe they don't care, or maybe they're too afraid to ask, she doesn't know. All she gets is curious stares, which they try to hide, but they fail miserably.

On the plus side, at least she doesn't have to answer any pesky questions and relive Saturday evening over and over again.

She has an important meeting today with her (hopefully) next success. She is going to launch Isaac Heller's new fantasy novel _Heroes and Villains_ today. All she has to do is nail her pitch and have him choose Storybrooke Publishing over all the other publishing houses that are trying to bag him.

Heller, _the_ new up-and-coming novelist, sky rocketed into success with his first novel _Once Upon a Time_ ; a story about the lives of our beloved fairy-tale heroes after their marriages and their claimed happy endings, on how villains became villains other than 'who is the fairest of them all?', and on the redemption of villains. It's a novel about hope, and love, and humanity in one compelling package of mystery, magic, relationships, and family, where nothing is ever simply good or evil.

For his second novel, Heller chose to stick to the fairy tale theme, but this time he made it a story of 'what ifs', with Snow White as the Evil Queen. It will undoubtedly be another compelling novel to Heller's devoted and substantial fan base, and for that reason alone, it will certainly be a hit, and thus a must-have for Regina and Storybrooke Publishing, even if the story is not her cup of tea, not after she lost her own happy ending when Daniel died so suddenly. She is not the biggest believer in fairy tales and second chances. After all, where is Daniel's second chance? Regina has learned the hard way to accept that the world is a horrible place where you have to learn to make an acceptable living for yourself until you and the people around you die. It's just a place you occupy for a short period of time, but always with the same end result; it's just a matter of when. If there is a heaven, Daniel is probably lucky he got to go to a better place so early on. But at least she has Henry, her driving force to keep her going every day.

After answering some emails and going over her pitch a few more times, she hears Heller finally arrive from the distance, barking orders to her employees with an air of haughtiness that some author's have and that Regina loathes: the way they think they are better than everyone else at the publishing houses with that Romantic notion that they are the soul and ultimate creators of their 'masterpiece'. Don't they realise they are nothing without an editing team?

When her assistant leads the man in question into her office, she quickly hides her scowl by putting on a professional mask she only uses with clients.

"Mr Heller," she says with a fake smile, moving from behind the desk towards the balding man and offering her hand to him, which he accepts, "It's an honor to meet you. My name is Regina Mills. I'm the chief editor here at Storybrooke Publishing."

He nods his head at her as acknowledgement. She notices that his eyes shortly linger on her right eye, and she cusses inwardly for not remembering to powder it some more before Heller's arrival.

"Shall we get this over with then? I have a busy schedule," are the first words that come out of Heller's mouth in a grumble.

Regina clenches her jaw and takes a deep breath in at his rude behaviour—she was right, he does have an air about him—before she quickly schools her features. "Of course," she answers sweetly with another fake smile plastered on her face as she directs him to her office table where the necessary papers are already waiting for her. She joins him at the opposite side of the table.

"Would you care for a drink? Coffee? Tea?"

"Coffee. Three sugars and a dash of milk—soy only."

Kristoff nods his understanding and clumsily scurries out of the office with his drink order.

Regina rearranges her papers in an impossibly neater pile before she looks at the man she hopes to be working with for the next couple of months, but she is really not looking forward to it either.

Heller is studying her intently. His eyes rake over her face, her upper body, and the small wounds on the knuckles of her hands. She swallows uncomfortably under his scrutiny, but tries to ignore the uneasy feeling she gets and focuses on her work.

She subtly clears her throat. "Well Mr Heller, you said you had a busy schedule, so what do you say we dive straight in?" she asks rhetorically, pulling her pitch from her folder ready to start, but the moment she opens her mouth, he holds up his hand to her.

"I know how this goes, Miss Mills, and I must say, I'm really not interested in another person trying to suck up to me to promote this company as if you actually care about me or my novel, while I know perfectly well you're only in it for the money I can bring in for this company if I were to choose you." Regina's mouth falls unceremoniously open in her shock. How did she already manage to screw this up? Why did he even agree to a meeting—one she was very proud to have booked too—if he was never even interested in signing with Storybrooke Publishing? "What I am interested in however," Heller continues, pausing shortly for dramatic effect, "is you."

"Me?" Regina asks incredulously with a raise of her eyebrow. She would do a lot for her job, but she draws the line at bedding a client in order to get him to sign with her, and she is about to tell him just that when Heller continues.

"Yes, you, and people in general. I like to draw inspiration from the people I meet and portray them in my characters, and you, Miss Mills, look exactly like someone I could use to round off my bandit."

To say that Regina is confused is an understatement. He wants to psychoanalyse her for character inspiration? He doesn't know anything about her.

"As you know, I haven't finished my novel yet," he continues. "I assume you have read my first draft?" Regina attests that she's read it. "The bandit character in particular is a bit too flat in my opinion. I might even name her after you. Regina…" he tries the name out, tasting it on his tongue, "I like that it has a majestic feel to it when she's the least regal person you'll find in my novel. Irony and all that."

Regina looks down at herself, at her pantsuit and high heels, and she wonders how Heller can compare her to a dirty bandit. She likes luxury, thank you very much.

"It's not in your clothes," he tells her a bit exasperatedly, "It's in your face."

Her hand moves subconsciously to the swelling under her eye and she thinks he's probably getting the wrong message here. It's not like she has to survive under an abusive husband or anything. "Look, Mr Heller, I know I might not look the most professional right now, but I can promise you, this is a onetime thing. I just had a little mishap."

He quickly waves her off. "Not that. Though I will admit that I am curious." Kristoff walks in and quickly places a cup of coffee in front of each of them before Regina waves him off with her hand and he quickly scurries away. "No," Heller continues, "I can see it in your eyes. You're strong, complex, distanced from the rest of us." His eyes follow the back of Kristoff with a smirk on his face before the closing door prevents him from seeing Kristoff any longer. "Your employees even seem afraid of you. You've really lived, haven't you?"

She can't help but scoff. "If that's what you want to call it."

Heller leans victoriously back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, a satisfied smile appearing on his face. "I knew it. I'd like to analyse you."

Regina hums, but then gets an idea. "Say I let you analyse me—whatever that means—does that mean you'll sign with us?"

Heller brings his hands together, leaning his mouth against the tops of his fingers, thinking shortly. "If you're the person I've been looking for, then yes, I'll sign with you," he decides holding out his hand for her to shake.

She takes his outstretched hand, and shakes it. "It's a pleasure doing business with you. Now tell me, what do you want to know?"

* * *

After giving Heller some information about her life, her parents, Daniel's death, her teen pregnancy—she's really _really_ not looking forward to more meetings with him—he decided that Regina _is_ the right person to "round off his bandit", and she gets him to sign the contract. _Heroes and Villains_ is officially theirs, despite the sacrifices she'll have to make talking about things that she would much rather leave in the past.

However, that did not stop her from having a small celebrative dinner with Henry and Rose at Granny's Diner for bagging the deal with Heller. As a fan, Henry is beyond psyched about the prospect of hopefully meeting the author and possibly getting some sneak peeks out of his mother. He is also adamant on receiving a signed copy when it is finished, and maybe having his copy of _Once Upon a Time_ signed as well.

Henry was aghast to learn that Rose has no idea who Isaac Heller is, so when they arrive back at the apartment, Henry eagerly runs to his room to get the novel out to show her. But he returns empty-handed, and Regina realises she's borrowed it from him, reading it to be completely ready for her meeting with the author.

"It's on my nightstand," she tells him before he can ask her, and Henry runs towards the neighbouring bedroom.

He comes back with the book, pressing it into Rose's hands, before dropping down on the couch next to Regina and holding something out for her to see. "What's this?"

She takes the card from him, not sure at first what it is, until she reads the contents.

 ** _Sherwood Gym_**

 _(Sports) Physiotherapy – Manual Therapy – Defence Class_

 ** _Robin Locksley_**

 _(Sports) Physiotherapist and Trainer_

Under his name are the address and phone number from Sherwood Gym mentioned, as well as Robin's email address and mobile number.

She hands the card back to Henry and says dismissively, "That guy, Robin, he gave it to me."

"The guy that saved you?" Henry wonders, suddenly reading the card with interest. She can see him mouth along the words 'defence class' as he reads the words.

"Hmhm, that's the one," she answers him, taking a sip of her wine. Normally she wouldn't drink on a weekday, but she decided that getting Heller to sign with Storybrooke Publishing deserves the opening of a good bottle of Merlot. Rose certainly didn't seem to mind either.

"He teaches a self defence class," Rose chimes in, a little too eager for Regina's taste, "He offered to teach your mum."

"That's great!" Henry exclaims, pushing the card once again into her hand, "You have to do it, Mom."

Regina shakes her head at her son. "Between work and taking care of you, I don't have time for it Henry."

"Sure you do," Henry continues ever so stubbornly, "I can stay home alone one evening a week. I'm old enough."

"Not happening, Henry," Regina says determinedly.

"I agree with Henry," Rose informs them, causing Henry to grin broadly and Regina to narrow her eyes warningly at her friend, but she is undeterred, "I can watch Henry. You should call him." She sends a wink Regina's way that makes her think Rose doesn't want her to take these classes for the sake of being able to defend herself, but for a whole other reason. And if she knows her friend at all, the little matchmaker, it has everything to do with the man teaching her. She lets out a deep sigh, mulling it over.

Henry places his hand on her arm and she looks at her son. "Otherwise we're going to have to take a cab to school and work every single day," he tells her pointedly, a smug grin on his young face.

She huffs and rolls her eyes at him. When did he learn the concept of blackmailing? She turns the card around and around in her hand, before focusing on the inscription again. With another deep sigh, she tells her son, "You're too stubborn for your own good," and Henry pumps his fist in the air with a cheerful 'woo', causing Rose to laugh loudly.

Henry jumps up from the couch to reach for the phone and holds it out for her. "Call him."

Regina looks at the phone and then at Henry. "I'm not gonna call him _now_ ," she informs him, "It's Monday evening. I'm sure he's at home right now."

"Mom," Henry says pointedly, "It's his _cell phone_ number."

She shakes her head determinedly, "Not now. I'll call him tomorrow, during the day."

"Alright," Henry agrees, albeit reluctantly, "As long as you call him."

"I will," she promises. "But, it's late and it's a school night, so off to bed with you," Regina tells her son, putting her glass of wine back on the table and pressing a goodnight kiss to Henry's cheek before he disappears behind his bedroom door. She looks at the card in her hand again, lets out another sigh, and then puts it in her purse to be able to make the promised call tomorrow.

* * *

 **Please check out "Secret Affairs" by thequeens0utlaw. This is a collab story written by thequeenregina (check her out!) and me.**


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